owitzer let
fly at him, and at the shock of the bullet's stroke he threw his arms up
in the air, and his horse bore him into the woods a corpse.

[Illustration: LAST SHOT. SAILOR'S CREEK.]

A little to the left, where the road crossed the creek, the crack of
pistols and the "bang" of muskets was continuous. The enemy had
surrounded the wagons and were mercilessly shooting down the unarmed and
helpless drivers, some of whom, however, managed to cut the traces,
mount, and ride away.

In order to escape from the right of the line, it was necessary to
follow the road, which was along the foot of the hill, some distance to
the left. The enemy seeing this were pushing their men rapidly at a
right oblique to gain the road and cut off retreat. Consequently those
who attempted escape in that direction had to run the gauntlet of a
constant fusilade from a mass of troops near enough to select
individuals, curse them, and command them to throw down their arms or be
shot.

Most of McRae's squad, in spite of the difficulties surrounding them,
gained the creek, plunged in, and began a race for life up the long,
open hill-side of plowed ground, fired upon at every step by the swarm
of men behind, and before they reached the top, by a battery in close
proximity, which poured down a shower of canister.

The race to the top of the long hill was exceedingly trying to men
already exhausted by continual marching, hunger, thirst, and loss of
sleep. They ran, panting for breath, like chased animals, fairly
staggering as they went.

On the top of this long hill there was a skirmish line of cavalry
posted, with orders to stop all men with arms in their hands, and form
a new line; but the view down the hill to the creek and beyond revealed
such a host of the enemy, and the men retiring before them were so few,
that the order was disregarded and the fleeing band allowed to pass
through.

The men's faces were black with powder. They had bitten cartridges until
there was a deep black circle around their mouths. The burnt powder from
the ramrods had blackened their hands, and in their efforts to remove
the perspiration from their faces they had completed the coloring from
the roots of the hair to the chin. Here was no place for rest, however,
as the enemy's battery behind the creek on the opposite hills, having
gotten the range, was pouring in a lively fire. Soon after passing the
brow of the hill darkness came on. Groups of men from the bat